


Danny

by SocksinSpace



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, It feels like I wrote a weird feverdream, Odd, Vague, intentionally confusing, very ambiguous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 21:42:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13843599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocksinSpace/pseuds/SocksinSpace
Summary: I... Had to write a short story around 2,500 words long for my creative writing class. I decided the logical next step would be "I'll post it to AO3, that's a good idea. Yes."Have fun with this.





	Danny

In an unnamed place, at a nondescript time, on a slimy little boulder surrounded by grass and sticks, sat a boy. This boy wept and wept as he sat on that slimy little boulder, the sky weeping with him through endless heavy rain, so large and thick were the droplets that fell that they formed into sheets that impacted the ground with loud smacks. The poor boy who wept was soaked in water from head to toe, and if he had the ability to see in the first place, would find himself lacking any amount of vision farther than a few inches from his face. It was the most horrendous situation to be in, alone with nothing but the clothes on his back. How long had he been here? Was he even going to make it? There were so many questions but not enough answers.

He was cold and wet and scared and hurting, aching, crying and whimpering.

"Momma, momma, momma, momma, momma, momma-"

The boy, small and not appear to be any older than five, startled at the sound of distressed yelling. Who was that? He couldn't tell, but it sounded close, and gravelly, and big. The boy didn't really want to know what it was now; if it was big, it was mean, and if it's mean, it hurts. The rain still pounded against his tiny form, his body aching from the unrelenting force. 'I gotta get out of here.' He thought to himself, shivering violently from the chill. If he stayed any longer he was sure to become ill, and he was too small, too weak to last long without food and water, let alone be somewhere he didn't know while sick and cold and soaked to the bone. His teeth chattered violently as he gulped chilled air.

The boy carefully slipped off of the boulder, bare feet sinking into the waterlogged soil that squished and slid around his feet, between his toes, and listened. He was so still, so quiet, so careful and so very warm, and as he listened he also thought. What would happen if the voices found him? What would happen if they didn't? Were they safe, were they not? Would they hurt him? The thought of being hurt scared him, made him want to hide and cry and pretend he didn't exist.

He thought of lullabies and mean words and lots of pain and and and-

There!

Voices came from his right, so he carefully turned himself to the left and ran as fast as his little legs could take him. The grass seemed to go on forever, he thought, and panic quickly set in as the voices came back, closer and louder. No! He had to get away, they couldn't get to him! Loud voices meant to hurt, and he didn't want that. It almost sounded, as they got closer, that they were calling his- his name? He didn't recognize the voices, how would they know his name was Danny? Danny just panted and pressed onward against the wind and rain that only seemed to get worse the farther he ran. It beat down on him with overwhelming force that made him cry out at random intervals, making him want to stop but he couldn't, he couldn't stop because that meant the voices would catch him.

“Danny!” They called, a man it sounded like. “Danny!!” They called again, this time a different voice, one he couldn't describe accurately. He just kept running, heaving and exhausted. The voices came ever-closer, finally catching up when Danny cried out, tripping on a large stone embedded in the muddy soil. He heard the light padding of footsteps coming towards him. “There he is!” One voice exclaimed as the rain seemed to stop suddenly, as though it never happened.

“Oh, you poor thing,” A pretty voice cooed, the sound of fluttering wings, of all things, and a slight breeze accompanying it. “You're safe now, Danny boy, don't you worry.” His body ached, throbbing with an excruciating agony that burned, certain spots feeling more bruised and battered than others. Danny wanted to cry, wanted to weep and apologize for something he couldn't recall. Momma, momma momma momma. He wanted his momma. He was scared of the voices before, but now he was too tired, and they seemed... safe, somehow. There was a soft chuckle above him, then speaking.

“Sleep, it's okay, you'll feel better when you wake up.” Said the pretty voice, kind and soft and encouraging. She was his favorite already, he could tell. He was tired, too, so sleep would be nice. Maybe when he woke up, he'd try to find a way home... Where was home? Oh, well, the pretty voice said to sleep, right?

"Sleep, Danny." She said again.

So he did.

Hours passed and Danny's thoughts consisted of nothing but darkness, as he'd never seen anything but that; darkness. But, it was peaceful, and he was safe. The warmth from an unknown source circled around him, cradling his sleeping body with a sense of protection and care, and Danny sighed softly, snuffling into the soft downy fluff that he lay in. A gentle cooing caught his attention even in the half-asleep state of mind he was in, followed by a careful, small hand running delicate fingers through his hair. There was a moment in time where he just lay there while the hand moved, listening to beautiful humming and floating between wakefulness and sleep. It was a pleasant experience, to say the least. 

"You are so precious, little Danny," The pretty voice, he remembered. He liked her, kind. Safe. Where was he, exactly? "You've been through so much." Oh no, the pretty voice sounded sad! What was he supposed to do?

Sluggishly, Danny raised an arm to aimlessly pat at where he thought the pretty voice was, a little frown marring his cherub face. "No," He slurred sleepily, lower lip jutting out now in an adorable pout. "Don' be sad, pre'y voice." Danny continued with a sleep-heavy voice, eyes opening to show his hazy, unfocused blue eyes. Maybe he couldn't see, but that never stopped him from doing what he could to live for and help others. Danny didn't like the pretty voice being sad, so he gave her comfort.

"Oh, sweetheart," The pretty voice said, holding his tiny hand and leaning down to place a kiss on the crown of his head. "Harvey is going to adore you, Abeba as well. Don't you worry about being hurt again."

'Harvey, Abeba?' He wondered distantly, falling slowly back into sleep as a deep voice made itself known. 'Whose that?' Danny thought once more, not quite catching what the deep voice said as his eyes closed, and he fell into calm rest. 

The next time he woke, it was to an argument between the pretty voice and the deep voice.

"He doesn't belong with us, Deliah!" The deep voice hissed, angry. "Look at what happened! If we bring him back with us, he'll only face pain!"

"The poor boy is covered in bruises and scrapes!" She sounded frustrated, angry as if the deep voice said anything else, she'd attack him without remorse. Heaving breaths were all that was heard for a long time after the pretty voice's outburst, and it felt as though the deep voice was contemplating something. There was an inhuman hiss before the deep voice cared to respond.

"Do you remember where we were, Deliah? The weather, and the location?" He asked her, as though desperate to ignore her exclamations. "Even we have bruises, along with some pretty nasty cuts from going through the forest, and our encounter with Advarr before we ran off to search."

"Some of them have faded as though they've been there for days, at the least. Credence, you have to see what's going on here! I'm not risking the possibility that this poor kid will just be hurt if we take him home."

"Deliah-"

"No, Credence. You might be the self-appointed leader, but even you're aware that nobody has to actually listen to what you say. The boy stays."

There was a long and tense silence that overwhelmed the unidentified space they were in before footsteps led away from him and faded into nothing. A soft sigh escaped the other person left, and Danny decided it was time to wake up properly, pushing himself into a sitting position and staring sightlessly forward. "Where am I?" he inquired, curiosity coloring his tone.

"Afraid I can't say, kid." The deep voice responded, startling Danny a bit. The voice chuckled humorlessly, leading Danny to think that it saw his reaction. A bitter feeling filled the little five-year-old, wordlessly upset at the thought that he couldn't see, that he'd never be able to know what color was, what clouds were, or what things like dinosaurs and fairies looked like. Sometimes it was easy to push aside that unhappiness and displeasure, like earlier with the pretty voice, but he always cared, somewhere, deep down where he placed all his pain because good boys didn't cry. Good boys were quiet.

The deep voice brought him back to reality, intruding on his wandering thoughts. "It's easy to read your emotions, y'know." Danny scowled in response. Of course, it was, he didn't have the skill to hide his emotions well enough, even if he were to improve on it he'd still not have the reference to seeing others use that ability.

"'s hard to hide them when I can't see when I need to, or know how to fake," Danny stated sourly. "Why were you making the pretty voice upset?"

"The pretty- oh, Deliah?" The deep voice lets out a loud whoosh of air, like a sigh, but with a significantly higher amount of frustration. "That means you heard everything, doesn't it? No- Don't answer that, kid, Danny, whatever. We were fighting over what to do about you-"

"Don't send me back," Danny interrupted quickly, fearfully. "Please."

A short moment of silence, a shaky intake of air, and then footsteps moving away from him. No answer.

"Please..."

Danny sat there in the quiet and darkness, breathing and thinking and messing up his hair with little hands. From time to time he would hear distant yelling, then nothing, and maybe once or twice a door would open, slam shut, and then open and slam again a few minutes later. So, they were in a building then. It sounded big, with the slamming doors and loud voices echoing. Danny found it a bit creepy, to be honest, with him flinching now and again in response to all the noise. It was a fairly long time later that he heard footsteps coming towards him, quite a few actually. Was it the pretty voice and her friends?

"Hey, little guy," The pretty voice said once they entered the room, sounding fond and caring. There was a slight breeze as they came in too, a faint dragging sound against the floor. "We have some questions to ask you, is that okay?" the pretty voice asked softly, a gentle dovelike coo at the end. Danny turned his head in the general direction of her voice and nodded tentatively.

"Yeah," he spoke. "'s okay."

"Awh, he sounds adorable"

"Hush Abeba, questions first, doting later."

"Mph... Okay, Harvey."

The pretty voice snickered quietly and lay her soft hand on Danny's shoulder, thumb rubbing circles on his exposed skin in a calming manner. "Alright, Danny boy, first we need to know if you remember anything. Your last name, your parents, where you live. Can you remember any of that?" She asked.

"N...No... I don't remember." A weak frown formed on Danny's face, why couldn't he-

"Do you remember why you asked Credence not to 'send you back'?"

"No... Just, scared."

"Alright... Now, do you remember me?"

Danny froze, confused. "Remember..."

"Me, yes. Do you?" The pretty voice sounded afraid.

"No." Why would he, how-

"I see..."

The hand left his shoulder, and the pretty voice spoke to someone else, the deep voice it sounded like. "Credence."

"Fine."

"Thank you."

There was a soft sigh, and Danny was lifted into feathery arms, then handed to someone with fluff on their chest. It was strange, all of this was, but his mind wouldn't allow himself to question the oddities. He couldn't remember things, the pretty voice had feathers on her arms, and he was confused, but it didn't really... bother him, at all. "Where're we going?" He asked absently, unknowingly falling into the devolving scenario possibly on par with a confusing, tangled, messy rendition of 'Alice in Wonderland' but with far less wonder and no Alice to be found.

"Somewhere safe." Was all the person holding him said.

"You'll like it there, It's colorful and bright." Spoke another, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Danny was blind. He wouldn't be able to see the color, the brightness. Why would the voice say that?

"Sleep." Said the pretty voice, cooing softly.

So, he did.

He was dreaming. Things he'd never seen before, odd shapes and colors that people with sight wouldn't be able to recognize or name. It was swirling and colliding and Danny's aches were gone. He looked at himself- actually looked at himself! And found dark skin, tufts of black hair falling into his face. The ground reflected his visage back to him, letting him see the dusting of freckles, the impossibly blue eyes that made his appearance mesmerizing and a bit haunting. He could see. He could see!

Even if it was a dream, even if all he saw was fake, it was something, and he was without pain, so Danny let himself bask in the excitement. He ran, he touched squishy blobs that popped in response, examined odd things he didn't understand.

It was colorful and bright.

Was that was the silly voice meant?

There were shadows in the distance, darkness that he did not miss. He saw the rough appearance of what feathers looked like to him, the best his mind could muster from what he'd felt. Danny saw balls of fluffy things, maybe fur, it was too soft to be grass. Beneath his feet was the feeling of wet, mushy mud. It did just what it seemed like it did whenever he stepped into stuff like it, squishing between his toes and feeling squirmy and weird.

"Danny." The pretty voice called.

He opened his eyes and smiled.

"Hi, Momma."

**Author's Note:**

> Is there a plot? Nobody knows.


End file.
